sweating the small (and other) stuff
Welcome to the Weekly Guest Blogger series.
I know, I know, we all have only so much emotional energy, so why waste it getting angry over incidentals, or things that are out of our control? Yet lately my fuse has retracted to the length of the common shrew’s penis. (Yes, that is an apt metaphor; look it up on animal kingdom facts).
But why? Or, more specifically, why now? Sure, as a little girl I was prone to temper tantrums, but my mother and her threats to give me something to really cry about effectively cured me of those outbursts some thirty years ago. Or so I believed. But if you think I pitched a fit when my mom served red velvet cake for my eighth birthday (after I had specifically requested chocolate), you should have seen me last week when the “mystery cone” I had ordered at the Ice Creamery turned out to be my two worst flavors (mint chocolate chip and black raspberry).
And mystery cones aren’t the only thing wasting my emotional energy. Recently I went on vacation to Canada where I visited a casino. Because the casino’s ATM refused to acknowledge my American debit card (like we’re not all part of the same continent!) I had to wait in line for a real person to advance me some cash. On and on the clerk went to the Canucks in front of me, about how they should consider purchasing the VIP package deal at the casino hotel, and how, yes, the all-you-can-eat buffet was more expensive on Fridays, but (and here he proceeded to list the entire contents of the buffet!) it was really worth it, eh.
Chill out, I try to tell myself. Who gets angry over ice cream? Who, for that matter, gets mad at Canadians, the most polite people on the planet? Yet lately I have been wasting energy not only on the small stuff, but on stuff that hasn’t even happened. Take Arnold Schwarzenegger, please. I read recently that he anticipated signing a book deal—as he’s been quoted as bragging—for a record-breaking advance. This while I and a gazillion real writers struggle to catch a break. And if we do manage to land a publishing contract, have you seen the size of our advances? Of course you haven’t, because we didn’t cheat on Maria Shriver!
Lest I turn into the common shrew, I plan to keep working on my short fuse. I would love to mellow with age and maybe someday, somehow, I will. But in the meantime, gentle reader, if we happen to cross paths, please try not to annoy or inconvenience me in any way. If I do get angry, do not shush me or tell me to calm down, which, I guarantee, will only make things worse. And, above all, do not, I repeat do NOT mention the name of a certain former Governor of California, who may or may not get a record-breaking book deal.
Much thanks to Joni for a funny blog. I had to add the picture of the shrew…not everyone knows what they look like.
Until the next time…I’ll be checking out Joni’s, Another Bad-Dog Book!